


Of Some Use

by magumarashi



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, faasan is there for like a second tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-11-12 04:14:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18003638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magumarashi/pseuds/magumarashi
Summary: Dissatisfied with his fate, Sandalphon searches for a way to be of some use to someone...





	Of Some Use

**Author's Note:**

> On my recent playthroughs of WMTSB and Paradise Lost i noticed a bunch of details that had totally gone over my head the first time I played bc lack of context, such as:  
> \--that Sandalphon had been part of the same primal rebellion as Olivia and Azazel  
> \--that the rebellion and its failure had all been part of Lucilius' plans from the start
> 
> Anyway then i got the idea for this fic. I'd initially been waiting to do anything with it in case 000 got there before me, but since at this point I'm betting it wont, I'm just gonna go ahead and post this

_ How could I be nothing more than Lucifer’s backup… ? _

The thought haunted him like a shadow, even as he tried so hard to push it to the back of his mind.

* * *

For his part, Lucifer continued on as though nothing had happened, inviting Sandalphon to the garden to taste-test various coffee brews and chat about the goings-on. Sandalphon wanted to put on a brave face and pretend that nothing had changed—the Supreme Primarch  _ must not _ find out that he’d eavesdropped, at all costs—but as the days passed, he began to resent his friend’s summons more and more. How could Lucifer be so blasé about all this? Had he simply accepted that his own creation had no inherent use? Was his continued kindness out of pity, now? How could Sandalphon look the Supreme Primarch in the eye, knowing that his own existence was secondary?

The truth cast a shadow over his relationship with Lucifer—until then, the only source of light in his life. He couldn’t sit in that garden, mug in hand, and pretend that nothing was wrong while his anxiety and dread tied his stomach in knots. He began to give excuses for why he couldn’t join Lucifer for coffee. Before long he stopped answering the summons entirely. 

Without any time spent with Lucifer, Sandalphon found his schedule empty. The Astral researchers had lost interest in him once Lucilius had deemed him useless. He took to wandering the halls aimlessly, on the offchance he’d stumble upon something to do. Occasionally a researcher needed an extra hand carrying something. A misplaced item could be found more easily with an extra pair of eyes. Odd tasks. Unfulfilling—he was rarely rewarded for his help. He knew better to expect gratitude from those who saw him only as an object with no purpose of his own.

As he floated through the days, he began to notice hushed whispers among the other primals. Conversations cut off when he drew near and resumed when he’d gone. Thinking the others were talking about him specifically, he tried to ignore them at first—but after a while he found himself lingering nearby, hoping to catch a word or two here and there:

_ “Fallen Angels.” _

The rumors swirled. He had to piece the bigger picture together from a smattering of half-heard conversations: dissatisfied with their station, a band of Primals was plotting to rebel against their creators.

_ “Rebellion.” _

Sandalphon had never considered it before. The Astrals were the end all and be all; they defined every moment of the Primals’ lives. They could take life away just as easily as they’d bestowed it. To reject their dominion and defy their social order would be tantamount to suicide.

And yet…

Some small part of him longed to give that Astral researcher a piece of his mind. 

* * *

Sandalphon rarely ventured to the other Primal Beasts’ quarters. He had little reason to, and they were usually all busy with their assignments besides. But one aimless afternoon he found himself heading in that direction, following the whispered rumors through the maze of dorms and barracks. Eventually he passed a small enclave, far from the main blocks, where his ears picked up the traces of a conversation.

_ “I think twilight would be the best time to strike; my powers will…” _

He’d found what he was looking for.   

Sandalphon didn’t bother trying to hide the sound of his heels on the marble floor. He approached the Primals sequestered in the enclave with an air of purpose. A front, of course—he’d gotten better at projecting self-worth he didn’t have. 

The two Primals jumped at the sound of his footsteps and immediately stopped their conversation. He’d seen both of them around before: one was a tall man with light hair (he almost looked like Lucifer, if it wasn’t for the horns; and his face was a totally different shape). The other was a woman with long blond hair and wings the color of dusk. They were Azazel and Olivia—from the rumors around the lab, these two were spearheading the efforts of the Fallen Angels. The two of them eyed him with immediate suspicion, which he supposed was reasonable. He  _ had _ caught them at an incriminating time.

“Haven’t you heard it’s rude to eavesdrop?” said Olivia, folding her arms. “The Supreme Primarch could stand to teach you some manners.”

“Apologies if I seemed rude, but I’ve actually come here looking for you,” said Sandalphon. “I hear talk of a rebellion among the Primals. If the rumors are to be believed, you two are the ones to speak to about it.”

Olivia and Azazel looked at each other.

“And I don’t suppose you’re here to volunteer for the cause,” said Olivia.

“Then perhaps your reasoning skills need work,” said Sandalphon. He took the hilt of his sword in hand. “I’ve come to learn more about the rebellion, and to request a place in it if you’ll have me.”

The two Fallen Angels stared at him for a moment, as if trying to assess whether they could trust him.

“So Lucifer’s little pet wants to get chummy all the sudden?” said Azazel, frowning. “I don’t know if I’m ready to let a direct line to the Supreme Primarch into our ranks—!”

“That won’t be a problem,” Sandalphon cut him off. “The Supreme Primarch and I are…  no longer involved. If the goal of your rebellion is to destroy the Astrals, I’ll gladly offer my blade.”

This seemed to ease the Fallen Angels’ uncertainty. 

“We appreciate your interest,” said Olivia with a polite smile. In an instant her expression darkened, however. “One warning for you, though, before you commit yourself to our cause.” 

“Oh?”

“This will be a bloody conflict, and likely a lengthy one at that,” Olivia continued. “The Astrals are difficult to kill, making the chances of success fairly low. They are unlikely to show us much mercy should we fail; a fate worse than death may be waiting for us on the other side of this. Even knowing all of that… are you still prepared to risk everything for a chance at freedom?”

Sandalphon gripped his sword more tightly.

“The Astrals have designated me for scrap,” he said coldly. “I have nothing left to lose. If I could be of some use to you… that would be enough.”

Olivia and Azazel nodded to each other, satisfied with his answer. Olivia smiled at him.

“I think you’ll be a great help to us, Sandalphon. Stand by for further instructions.”

“Understood.”

Sandalphon left the enclave with something of a spring in his step. It wasn’t quite as good as a purpose given by the Astrals, but at the very least it was something he could look forward to. He couldn’t wait to see the look on Lucilius’ face—Sandalphon would make him regret even _ thinking  _ that he could deem his own creations useless. 

If Sandalphon had been paying more attention to his surroundings, he might have noticed the robed figure hiding out behind a column in the barracks. Instead, he strode right on by without a second glance, too preoccupied with his own excitement to notice the danger lurking out of sight. 

Lucilius smiled to himself—the kind of smile reserved for an unexpected, yet not unwelcome, surprise.

“It seems that one may yet have some use after all…”   
  



End file.
